


Well, We Do Have Those Suits…

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Touchy-Feely, Sometimes Silly, BDSM Stuff [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: - during a blow job, - tie used as, Biting, Blow Jobs, Canes, Caning, Dom!John, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Gags, M/M, Masturbation, Period clothing, Roleplay, Teacher/Student Roleplay, sub!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7322416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sub!Sherlock is bored. Dom!John thinks a couple of old Victorian suits could be just what the detective needs to relieve said boredom. That and a good dose of teacher/student roleplay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well, We Do Have Those Suits…

Well, We Do Have Those Suits

 

“Johhhnnn,” Sherlock moaned. “I'm bored.”

“Of course you are, babe.”

Sherlock's eyes snapped open as he peered at him.

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?”

“Entertain me.”

The doctor bit his lip, thinking. There was something he wanted to try. “Well, we do have those suits…”

Sherlock shifted in his seat and regarded John, his interest piqued. It wasn't something he would have come up with on his own, but the doctor in something besides jeans and a jumper or a plaid shirt... He could feel his own pulse speeding up at the thought.

“Alright. What do you have in mind?” Sherlock sprung up from where he was sat, tucked his feet up beneath him and sat back down again, squatting in his seat. “I was hoping for sex.”

John laughed at his bluntness. “It could lead to that.”

“How will the suits make sex less boring?” He asked the question, but going by the blowing of his pupils he was definitely already interested.

“Well… Roleplay.”

“Roleplay what though? Surely sex is sex no matter what the foreplay. It doesn't matter what we wear, we won't be wearing it by the time we're done.”

“That depends on the roleplay.” John waggled his eyebrows. “We have to go back in time. That's what the suits were for because they definitely would not fit in this era.”

“More Victorian,” Sherlock pointed out. “But then…” he trailed off, shaking his head, unsure where he had been going.

“What about school? One of your suits could be tweaked slightly and you'd look like a boy in the early 1900's.” Oh, yes. He definitely liked that idea.

“Why do I have to be the boy?” Sherlock was scowling at the older man.

“Because if you think for one second that I will let you anywhere near me with a cane let alone dominate me, you're way off the mark.”

“So what have I done?”

John smirked. “You know it wouldn't take much back then… to get in trouble, I mean, you would never have survived.”

Sherlock poked his tongue out.

“That for example. Disruptive. Rude. You must respect your elders.”

“There's 2 years between us!”

“And that would get you in even more trouble.” John licked his lips. “Now get your arse upstairs and put on that old suit.”

Sherlock flew up the stairs, leaving a chuckling John behind.

Sherlock distinctively heard John rearranging the furniture of the flat and paused his deductions. This would be more fun if he didn't know what to expect. The only deduction he needed to make was the one of knowing the doctor was ready.

He tried to access his Mind Palace and look through some of the history files he had never got around to deleting. He decided to take his jacket off, it made him look fat, whereas the waistcoat made him look thin, that was preferred. He pushed his tie somewhere close to the top of his shirt, but wasn't really bothered, he secretly knew John would be, all the better; he loved winding him up. As he slipped into his shoes he made sure to scuff them a bit so the well-polished shine was overruled by scrapes and scratches. He checked himself in John's old mirror once more and then made his way downstairs, his jacket over one shoulder where he held it with a finger.

He rapped his knuckles on the door.

“If that's Holmes, wait there.”

Sherlock ignored the obvious threat and pushed the door open.

“I told you to wait, Holmes.”

Sherlock's breath hitched and his mouth gaped open at the look of the doctor - his teacher. John had a three piece suit on and seemed to fit the role perfectly where he was sat. He was quite similar to Mycroft in the way he owned the suit except John's was tweed and old. A moustache would finish it off perfectly, but Sherlock realised that he had tried that once and mentally shook his head. Never again. He'd also managed to procure a mortar board and gown from somewhere and Sherlock raised an eyebrow. John looked hot.

“Is there a problem, Holmes?”

Sherlock blinked and his head snapped up to look at the other man. John was trying incredibly hard to hide his smirk, but wasn't succeeding. Oh, no. There was definitely not a problem... except for the one growing in Sherlock trousers. The 'boy' shook his head.

John stood and walked over to his pupil. He tugged on the boy's tie, then straightened it. “Your attire is unacceptable, Holmes.” He grabbed the boy's jacket and threw it in the corner. “It's slovenly. Look at those shoes.” He tangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair and forced him to look down at his scuff marked shoes. “What do you have to say for yourself, Holmes?”

Sherlock actually laughed.

John used his grip to shake the 'boy', before he cleared his throat pointedly.

“Boring.”

The teacher threw Sherlock down onto the floor, the boy's face mere inches from John's own shiny shoes. “Look close, Holmes. This is what is expected from a boy of your standing.” He raised one foot and pressed it to the back of Sherlock's neck. “Do I make myself clear or do you need a closer look?”

Sherlock stiffened up where he knelt, his palms that were pressed into the floor were already sweaty with anticipation.

“No, sir. You've given me a fine demonstration of how a jerk shines his shoes.”

“I don't think you understand, Holmes. Lick them.” He pressed down on Sherlock's neck a bit harder. “Show me just how shiny they can be.”

Sherlock hesitated, but only a moment. One more warning press against the back of his neck and his tongue darted out, caressing the shiny black leather of his teacher's shoes.

“That's it. You can do better than that.”

Sherlock tried to push his head up to complain but John anticipated it and pressed his foot down harder.

“Obey me, Holmes, or face the consequences. And when I say consequences, I don't mean demerits, I mean strikes with a cane. You've already earned yourself 15 with your attire and 10 more with your attitude.”

With a huff, Sherlock lapped at his teacher's shoe properly, his tongue cleaning every inch. John released the pressure on his neck just enough to allow him to shift to the other shoe and give it the same treatment.

When he was done, John put enough weight on his student's neck that he had to turn his head and push his cheek into the floor.

“Hands behind your back, Holmes.”

He was pleasantly surprised when Holmes' hands reached around and he took one wrist with the other.

“Now get back on your feet.”

John stepped back and watched the boy stand. Holmes' cheeks were flushed a pretty pink that matched his lovely lips.

“It's nice to see you can follow directions, Holmes. There's hope for you yet.”

That caused the boy to glare, despite him maintaining position.

“But you still have an attitude, don't you?”

Holmes didn't say anything.

“I expect you to answer me, Holmes. That's 15 more strikes.” The teacher watched as his jaw tightened.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“No, you're not. Don't lie to me boy, you'll never pull that off.”

Holmes ground his teeth.

From out of nowhere a cane appeared. “I'll not be using this on you yet,” he warned as he tilted his head back with the tip of the rod. “But let it be fair warning.”

The boy jerked his head away despite trying not to. Even worse, he growled.

John tossed the cane down and grabbed Holmes by the tie pulling him close. “Oh, Holmes, that was a mistake.” He loosened the boy's tie, brought it up and settled it between the boy's teeth, he tightened it again, using it as a makeshift gag. “I have no desire to hear even your growls as complaint.”

The boy's eyes screamed fury.

John moved around the desk and took his seat. “Go and plant yourself in the corner. Hands behind your head.”

When there wasn't immediate compliance, the doctor stood once again. “Do not test me, boy!”

Sherlock jerked, then moved as if on strings. He walked over to the corner, hands on the back of his neck. For one moment, he hesitated, then he fell to his knees, despite not having been told to.

John watched the boy with a smirk. “Not completely lost beyond all hope then. I should really contact your father… or maybe your brother? You seem to fear him more than you fear your parents.”

The tightening of Holmes' shoulders told him all he needed to.

“That's what I'll do, then. I'll have you contact your brother, unless you can convince me otherwise.” John stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankle. “You're a bright young man. Perhaps you can think of a convincing argument against my calling him.” John licked his lips, thinking of his pupil's pretty mouth.

Of course, Holmes couldn't speak, but that didn't mean he couldn't answer. His head nodded, jerkily.

The doctor got to his feet and paced to the corner. He pulled the boy up by his curls.

“Leave your hands there,” he ordered as he dealt with his shirt and tie once more. “Much more respectable. From a family such as yours, it is a shock. Now when you open your mouth you will be polite and respectful. At all times. Is that understood, Holmes?”

The boy nodded, then offered, “yes, sir.” He lowered his gaze to his teacher's crotch, then meaningfully licked his lips. “My mouth is good for things besides getting in trouble, sir.”

“Is it, now?” John grinned. “And what about the rest of you?”

“Any part of me you like, sir, any part at all.”

“You're willing to… sell yourself to get out of trouble?”

“Yes, sir. If you don't phone my brother, sir, you can do whatever you like with me.”

The teacher inclined his head. “And the cane?”

“I understand I'm not getting out of it, sir.”

“Good. Quite right too.”

John tugged on his pupil's curls. “Such unruly hair. You do realise it's not regulation?”

“Yes, sir, but it's good for pulling, sir. Don't you like it, sir?”

John laughed and pulled Holmes around for a moment just because he could. “Oh, I like it very much. It does make a nice handle. But still… regulation… another reason I should be contacting your brother. Don't you think, Holmes?”

“Sir, please don't.”

“Scared of Mycroft, are you? I remember teaching him myself.”

“I'm not scared of him!” Sherlock snapped, before he realised he was doing it.

The teacher yanked Holmes' head to the side. “That's 10 more strikes for raising your voice to me and arguing with me. How many are we up to Holmes?”

“50, sir.”

“Oh, Holmes, that's going to hurt quite a lot. Is there anything you want to say?”

He shook his head.

“A verbal response, Holmes.”

“No, sir.”

The doctor didn't seem convinced so wasn't surprised when Sherlock continued.

“You're being far too unfair!”

“Who's the teacher here, Holmes?”

“You, sir.”

“And who's the student?”

“Me, sir.”

“Now, if you truly think I'm being unfair, I'll call your brother.”

“No, sir.” He was well resigned by this point.

“Good.” He pressed him to his knees again. “Hands behind your back, you've got a bit of making up to do and we can't have you looking untidy as you do it, can we?”

“No, sir,” he sighed, but fell to his knees as instructed.

The doctor unbuttoned his trousers and began to pull down the zipper.

The boy's eyes went wide and his pupils blew as John drew his cock out. He licked his lips in anticipation, leaving them wet and glistening.

“Are you always so eager, Holmes?” John asked. He ran the head of his cock over his pupil's lips once, twice, three times before slipping it into Holmes' mouth.

Sherlock had a plan. Get the man comfy; enjoying himself. Then bite down. As hard as he dared. There was no particular reason why he wanted to anger his 'teacher' he just wanted to see what he would do to him or whether he would enjoy it more than this - if that was possible.

John had to bite his lip. Holmes' mouth felt so good, so hot and wet. And, damn, but he looked good on his knees, bobbing on his cock. The teacher had to grab him by the hair and hold him still for a moment or he would shoot off right then.

The kneeling boy fought to try and gain more control.

Growling his frustration, John pulled him off his cock completely.

“Who is in charge here, Holmes?”

He swallowed. “You, sir.”

“Quite right, boy and who is paying a debt to clear it?”

He sighed this time. “Me, sir. I'm sorry, sir, it's just-”

“Shut it, Holmes. You should know arguing will not get you anywhere.”

Holmes stuck out his tongue, straining towards his teacher's cock. John yanked him even further away.

“Naughty, naughty boy. Just for that, you can use your hand instead.”

Holmes rolled his eyes. So much for his plan to bite his teacher. He'd have to devise another scheme.

“Ah, I didn't say you could move them from behind your head, did I boy?”

“But-”

John smirked. “What did I tell you about arguing?”

“How am I supposed to-”

John cut him off by thrusting into his student's mouth, hard, going back on his statement but catching the brat off guard.

At that, Holmes bit down, not hard enough to cause damage, but certainly hard enough to hurt.

“Fucking hell!” John flung him away from himself hard enough to send him halfway across the room.

The little shit had a smirk on his face.

John's pants were up in a moment and he was across the room with the cane in his hand before Sherlock had the chance to get out the door. John used his free hand and grabbed the scruff of Holmes' neck in the tightest grip he could manage.

“You, my dear boy, are going to regret that more than anything else in your life.” John flung his pupil face down over his desk. He pinned him down with his body and reached around under him to unfasten his trousers. Ripping them down Holmes' legs, he exposed his arse.

Sherlock wasn't sure what to expect; the man's cock or his cane.

He was highly disappointed when a stroke of the cane came down across his arse cheeks, impacting with a delightful sting.

“Ow! That hurts!” Holmes squirmed and tried to get away to no avail.

“I believe what you meant to say was '1, sir. Thank you, sir.'“

He dropped the cane again, just below the previous stroke.

He leant over and shoved Holmes' head down into the desk, pushing him until he was incredibly uncomfortable.

“The ones you do not count. Do not count.”

“But-”

Another strike.

“Sorry, sir. 3, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Oh no, no, no, boy, that's only one.”

“1, sir. Thank you, sir,” Holmes corrected himself, reluctantly.

“Much better, boy. You can be taught.” John brought the cane down three times in rapid succession.

“4, 5, 6, sir. Thank you, sir.” His voice had come out shaky. The cane hurt like Hell. John wasn't giving him light taps, but heavy blows. He'd be well bruised when this was done. It was humiliating. It was incredibly arousing. He aimed the next lot around his upper thighs and over his sit spot.

On '9, sir, thank you, sir,' Sherlock's voice had wavered far more than he had anticipated.

There were genuine tears leaking from his eyes and, to his horror, he heard himself sob, but he was still incredibly hard.

“Do you want to safe word, Holmes?” John asked, just to be certain.

“No, sir.”

He paused for a moment, he was angry, but only in the scene. “Are you sure, boy?”

“Yes, sir. A measly caning won't beat me.”

He ducked instinctively, but of course it was his arse the teacher was aiming at.

“10, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“That one doesn't count, Holmes.”

“But- what-”

“It was for your cheek. Now do not argue with me, boy, or I'll start again.”

As the red welts rose on pale flesh, John decided there was no way he could give his boyfriend the full 50 blows with the cane - he'd have to sit sometime in the near future, after all. Perhaps he'd stop at 20.

“You're such an impertinent boy. I should save some of these blows for later.” He brought the cane down hard and listened to Holmes' yelp of pain and subsequent count and words of thanks. “That way I would have an excuse to see you every day and deal out punishment. What do you say to that?”

The boy was clearly conflicted.

“Sir, I-”

“You what, Holmes? Had enough? Or eager for more? You can have them all now if you like?”

“No, sir,” he said hurriedly, his voice was almost completely broken.

When John had dished out the twentieth stroke and Holmes had counted it off, he ordered the boy to turn and kneel at his feet, leaving his trousers where they were.

He did so, though his arse throbbed with pain and his cock, hard and purple with blood, throbbed from arousal.

“Sir, please,” he begged. “I need you to do something, anything. Please.”

John toed his cock, knocking it from side to side.

“Naughty boy, Holmes, this was supposedly punishment, not an opportunity for you to amuse yourself.”

John's pupil let out a helpless moan of distress, more than halfway to safe wording. Only his pride stopped him. “Sorry, sir.” He ducked his head as tears of frustration filled his eyes.

John smirked. “I believe I won this round, Holmes.”

“Yes, sir,” he sighed.

John shoved his hand into the boy's thick curls and tugged his head back.

“You are getting a second chance to suck me. You will not use your teeth. In fact…”

The blond moved around the room and found a ring gag.

“A coincidence, don't you think?” He asked with a smirk.

There was no such thing as coincidence, they both knew that.

John forced the gag between his pupil's teeth and buckled it in place. “There. Much better. Now we don't have to worry about any unfortunate accidents.” He slid his cock into Holmes' mouth with a sigh of contentment. “Very nice. You can touch yourself if you like, but don't you dare come before I do, Holmes.”

He tried to speak, but had two objects hindering him.

“Actually, Holmes, you don't really deserve to be rewarded, do you?”

Annoyance flashed through the boy's face as he glanced down.

“Hands behind your back.”

The boy kicked his feet in frustration, even whilst putting his hands behind his back.

“Tut, tut, boy,” John said as he began fucking Holmes' mouth, then he lost the inclination to say anything at all.

John took the time to appreciate such a talented mouth in a boy so 'young'. It was a shame he couldn't wrap it around his clock completely. The thought of that alone nearly sent him over the edge.

Holmes could sense how close his teacher was to coming. He was fairly certain he knew how to make it happen. He worked John's cock with his tongue, gave a little moan, and looked up at him through his dark lashes, letting them flutter just so.

He was right, obviously. John came immediately.

He wrapped his fingers into the boy's dark locks and pulled him forward until the cocky sod gagged on his dick.

Holmes had to swallow or choke, he had no other choice. The boy's own cock gave a twitch at the rough manhandling by his teacher. It was all he could do not to grab it and jerk himself off.

The doctor pulled out, fully sated.

When he could, he stared down at Holmes, on his knees, looking utterly exhausted.

“Your punishment still isn't over, Holmes. 10 minutes in the corner, hands on your head, with that lovely striped arse on display.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” he whispered, he didn't even get to his feet, just crawled to the corner.

Holmes kept his head bowed, from submission, but also because he was staring at his hard and jutting cock. If it were possible to die of frustration, he would do it on the spot.

John chuckled, having a good idea of what was going through his pupil's mind.

He watched his fingers twitch.

“Don't even think about it, Holmes! You should be thinking about your behaviour, not your raging hard on.”

He heard the boy choke on thin air as he tried to stop himself from laughing. John allowed himself a smile.

“Just think, Holmes. Anyone could walk in, and what would they see? A naughty little boy with his well spanked bum on display.”

And, well, didn't that just make the boy's cock get impossibly harder. He had an exhibitionistic streak a mile wide and his teacher knew it. With a thunk, Holmes let his head fall forward and hit the wall.

John chuckled. It was the first time he'd seen his boy quiet for so long.

“Are you still bored, Sherlock?” He called over softly.

Sherlock sighed. “No, sir. Most definitely not. My arse hurts though.”

“Get up and undressed, I might give you a massage if you're a very good boy for Doctor John.”

The detective groaned, he was never going to live this down.

“What about,” he nodded down to his bouncing cock.

“Tut-tut, naughty boy.”

“Your boy,” he countered immediately.

“Yes, my boy.”

Sherlock stood and stripped everything off in record time, then crossed to stand in front of his boyfriend. “I'll take that massage now, John.”

The doctor pointed to the bedroom.

“In there first.”

“But-”

“Haven't we just covered what happens to little boys who argue?”

“Yes, sir,” he sighed. “Sorry, sir.”

Sherlock crossed through to the bedroom. He looked at the bed long and hard, not at all certain he wanted to lay with his arse against the sheets. If he lay on his stomach, he'd be tempted to rut. Maybe he should let John decide what he should do? He just stood there and awaited instructions, shifting from foot to foot.

As John walked past, he pressed him down to his knees again. He moved over to the bedside table and threw him a tube of lube.

“Go for it, babe, I need a pee.”

It was far from the optimal solution, but optimal be damned. Sherlock tipped the tube and squeezed a generous amount into his hand, then he grasped his cock and pumped it once, long and slow.

John did actually need the loo but instead he stood at the door and watched as Sherlock played and pulled at his cock.

It was truly a lovely sight. The doctor lingered a moment longer, then he ran to the loo, determined to get back before Sherlock had finished. He made it, even though he took long enough to fetch a damp flannel before he returned.

Sherlock had rocked over to his side, completely exhausted.

John laughed, making the younger man jerked upright.

“Alright, babe?”

He nodded as he climbed to his feet.

Sherlock plucked the mortarboard from John's head and put it on top of his own curls. “Where did you even get these?”

“Graduation. Obviously. Where's yours?”

Sherlock shrugged.

“You didn't go?”

“No, I did. At least I think I did.”

“You deleted it?”

“Probably. It was 15 years ago.”

John chuckled, then he reached out and wiped the damp flannel across the detective's come smeared stomach. “You made a mess there, boy.”

“It's your fault, John, thinking of using those suits. You have no idea how hot you look.”

He smirked, threw the flannel in the general direction of the bedroom and then bent to scoop Sherlock up.

He took him to the bed and dumped him on top of the covers.

“That's my line.”


End file.
